


Something Like Love

by The_Almighty_Ro



Series: Longing [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Always a different sex, Body Worship, F/M, PWP, Scars, Sexual Content, resolved emotional tension, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Almighty_Ro/pseuds/The_Almighty_Ro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Were he a bolder man he would have worked up the courage to ask long ago; but Spain is not a bold man, especially when it comes to Prussia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LupaDracolis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LupaDracolis/gifts).



Were he a bolder man, a man like Francis who could come in and sweep women and men and everything in between off their feet with unrivaled charm and a saucy smile, he would have worked up the courage to ask long ago. He would have gone up to her even when he thought she was a man, would have taken one of her gloved hands in his (so much smaller than his, it had been so strange at the time to think about) and asked if he could have her. If she would have him, if the idea of belonging to someone else didn't sit right with her, because if there was one thing that everyone knew it was that Prussia didn't belong to anyone. She was wild and haughty and just as strong as any man, commanding the respect and attention of all around her with the pick of anyone who would fill her bed.

She had the world wrapped around her pretty little finger, and for centuries all he could do was watch from afar as she charmed and waged war with it at the same time.

Antonio still was a not a bold man, but he knew better than to let her slip through his fingers again like quicksilver and so many lonely nights of longing and wishing; he'd pulled her aside after two decades of working up the nerve, when the flash of a star-bright scar on her shoulder made his fingers twitch with the desire to trace and map every hurt that had ever befallen her and memorize them with his mouth, and asked if she would have him. At first she had laughed, all high and nervous and incredibly endearing as she self-consciously toyed with her long hair, and called him nuts. 'Why would you want me?' she asked and it hit him in the gut that she didn't think herself as pretty and fantastically charming as he did.

So he takes her hand and presses his mouth to the narrow, faded scar from a battle neither of them can remember that starts from her wrist and stretches down her forearm; her pulse jumps beneath his lips and flutters, her eyes wide as she watches him. Her cheeks are dusted red and he wants nothing more than to kiss her.

"I have always wanted you, _Prusia_ ," he says when he pulls away and smiles despite the tremor in his voice. It's as close to an 'I love you' as any of them will get, as he will allow himself, and there is a terrifying moment where he thinks she will withdraw her hand and walk away from him with his heart and his soul.

But then she closes her eyes, allows her head to fall onto his shoulder, and releases a breath that rattles his bones as she says yes.

Now he has her spread out before him, lights off and room dark at her command because having him see her naked makes her nervous. There is a window open, though, and it streams moonlight across her back as she lays on her stomach and paints her alabaster under it's gentle beams. Her long hair is a gossamer curtain that he pushes aside so that he can kiss a shiny scar on her shoulder, lips lingering as he savors the first taste of her on his tongue as he makes an appreciative sound that he knows will shake her to her bones. They have never been intimate in the many centuries they've known each other and he wants to make it as enjoyable for her as he knows it will be for him if only because she deserves that and so much more.

Antonio calls her an angel and she scoffs.

"An angel of death maybe," Maria murmurs. She's completely still under his lips, mouth set in a scowl as she stares down the far wall so that she doesn't have to look at him; she wants him to think this is business as usual but the stiff set of her shoulders and the way her hands ball into fists under her head tell him this is anything but.

Maybe she is as afraid of screwing this up as he is. Maybe, just maybe, it means even more to her than it does him; Prussia has never taken on a steady lover before, never afforded herself the companionship of someone she couldn't leave behind. She won't be able to leave him behind if things don't work between them because they are the same and will live for as long as they are tied to the land.

(Maybe even longer, if she's anything to go by.)

Spain presses his mouth against the scar just behind her ear where it had been sewn back on and she shivers. "I have always wanted you, _Prusia_ ," he breathes against the skin.

It's as if a spell breaks because she releases a breath of her own and gives the wall a tiny smile.

There are no more words after that, nothing but her hitched breathing every time he traces his lips along the seam of another scar and the shuffling of sheets as he works his way down her back. He keeps his touch light as he works her over and delights in every new sound she makes because it's almost like he's making her sing just for him. Her breathing crescendos and holds as he draws his lips over the curve of her ass, then comes out as a choked moan when they ghost over a faded scar on the inside of her thigh; the sound is a little unexpected after she's managed to keep so quiet for so long and it sends heat searing through his veins.

He forces himself to continue his trek, but only barely; Maria is vocal in her frustration and he's tempted to forego his plan to appease her, to appease himself, but he has the taste of her thick on his tongue now and he wants more. She can afford to wait longer while he acquaints himself with every mark on her body, he decides, and wastes no time in kissing his way down to her ankles only to start back up. By the time he makes it back up to her neck, she's practically vibrating with frustration and need and twists under him to press a hungry and feverish kiss against his lips.

"Quit teasing me," she hisses into his mouth. Her arms are around his neck and every pale inch of her is pressed against him in all of the right places, and the only real barrier between them happens to be his trousers.

"'m not," he murmurs. His fingers trail down the curve of her hip, an attempt to push them away because now they're working against his and breaking down his resolve. There is need pooling between his legs that is burning him up as surely as it's been burning her up and it's incredibly cruel of her to try and rush something meant to be savored.

Her lips are on his again, biting and sucking while her fingers scratch angry furrows into his skin and she grins slow and wild. "Fuck me," she purrs.

His breath stutters in his throat. "No," he moans.

The noise she makes is beyond frustrated and the sharp drag of her teeth along his jaw punctuates it. "Please," and now she's begging and he very nearly gives in.

"No," Antonio repeats with more force than before and gently pushes her back down onto the bed. Maria looks up at him with narrowed, red eyes, mouth twisted into a pout and he leans down to kiss her again. It's soft and slow and he pours all of himself into it to convey to her the depths of his feelings, to show her how much he has longed for her, and she settles under him with a soft sigh and thin fingers threading themselves through his hair. "Let me make love to you," he says once they've broken apart for air.

There is a pause as she processes his request before nodding, cheeks burning just the tiniest bit brighter. The sight is adorable and he presses a fond kiss to her forehead as he slips a hand between them to undo his pants. Her hands join his to help slip them down his hips, and he pretends to ignore the tremble in them as he kicks the final barrier between them off and settles between her thighs.

"You're not wearing any underpants," she says suddenly.

He snorts. "No, I am not," he agrees, sliding warm hands up her thighs to push them apart.

It's obvious she wants to press the issue but she doesn't get the chance to when his fingers begin to stroke her in earnest and her words are choked off by an appreciative moan. The sound alone is enough to send electric shocks of pleasure shooting through his blood, but the sight of her writhing, back arched as she presses a fist against against her mouth while the other twists in the sheets above her head, is what really shakes him to his core. He's never seen her this open before; Maria has always been in control of herself, even when she wasn't in control of anything around her. It's how she coped, how she could get through hardship and heartache - especially heartache.

Antonio chases one her sharp intakes of breath back to her mouth and swallows it with a hungry kiss after pushing her hand aside. She responds eagerly, throwing an arm around his neck to drag him close while he continues to work her with his fingers.

"Toni," she gasps into him mouth and it's basically a plea.

He hums against the curve of her jaw where there's the faintest of scars from her childhood and pulls his hand away so that he can hook one of her legs around his hips. There is a second where he's able to lock gazes with her, his eyes asking her permission which she grants with a jerky nod, before he slides into her with a low groan that she echoes. Everything is warm and bright for two seconds before he comes back to himself and takes in the sight of Maria flushed and wanton, giving his hips an experimental role that she arches into.

"Quit teasing," she hisses and he smiles and leans down to press a trembling kiss to the corner of her mouth as he obediently starts rocking, her eyes fluttering and lips curving as she chases him for a proper kiss.

They continue on like that for what seems like forever, lost in the slide of skin on skin and gentle touches and fond kisses. Antonio keeps running warm fingers over every scar on her body that he can find. There is one that slashes across one of her breasts that keep keeps mouthing at and each time his tongue flicks across the raised skin Maria's gasps get higher and more frequent. He can't get enough of her, around and under him, how warm she is and how open; if he could make this last forever, he would. All he wants is _her_ always.

She comes suddenly and with a violent shudder that ricochets through him as she stiffens and clings to him, and it's too much too fast and he follows her, tipping over the edge with a low groan. They lay together after that in silence, Antonio's face buried in the crook of her neck and refusing to move lest the spell be broken. In the end he doesn't have to as she shifts and he thinks she means to push him away only to find himself gathered into her thin arms so tightly he thinks he'd bruise if she were any stronger.

Her breath is warm against his ear as she says, softly like it's a secret, "I've always wanted you too," and hides her face in his mussed hair.

It isn't an 'I love you', but it's close enough and all their positions and her insecurities will allow and he takes it, wraps it up, and puts it in the corner of his heart that has always belonged to her. He smiles so wide he is sure she can feel it against her skin and wraps his arms around her in return. What he's feeling swelling in him isn't quite the happiness he thought he'd feel with the admission, but it's a close thing, and he hopes that one day they can both can find it and be at peace.

Together.


End file.
